


Whiskey Told Confessions

by AveryWinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-28 22:43:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17191658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AveryWinchester/pseuds/AveryWinchester
Summary: Tumblr  REQUEST HI!! I LOVE U. So idk if request are open or not 😆 So I was thinking one imagine where the reader broke up with her boyfriend, and she just start saying things like: “I thinki I get it, I mean, she was just very pretty.” Or “But, Dean you didnt even saw her, in a room with me and her I would choose her.” I’m sorry about my english, im just reaallyy new in this. 😅





	Whiskey Told Confessions

You stomped your way down the bunker stairs, trying to hold back the tears. Making it to the war room, you angrily tore off your leather jacket, tossing it to somewhere you didn’t care. Bending down, you began to rummage through the cabinets of the small bar, searching for something, anything to numb the pain. You already been drinking but it hadn’t been enough to help with the ache in your heart.  
  
You finally found an unopened glass bottle of aged whiskey. That will do just fine. So you grab an empty glass tumbler, and made you way over to the table. You sat in a huff, popping the bottle, and pouring yourself a generous amount. You looked down at the glass, staring at the amber liquid swirling, before throwing it back and feeling it burning down the back of your throat.  
  
“ _Hey_ ,”  
  
You immediately turned your head to the sound of man’s growl. There was Dean. Gun pointed and cocked, disheveled bed head, and dead man’s robe.  
  
“Y/N?!” His green eyes tried to adjust, as he realized that it was you.  
  
“Really, Dean? Still with the dead man’s robe?” You snarked, throwing back another hefty amount of whiskey.  
  
Dean sighed heavily, putting the gun down and walking over to you. “Sweetheart, what are you doing here?”  
  
“I’m mending a broken heart. Or at least trying to numb it.” You slurred.  
  
You were about to toss back another shot when Dean stopped you. “Are you drunk?” He questioned, and you just shrugged. “What happened?” He took the empty spot next to you.  
  
You sighed heavily, swirling the liquor in your glass. “He left me.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“He _left_ me.” You repeated. “He left me for someone who is prettier, smarter, and obviously younger. You drunkenly rambled off, tossing back the shot.  
  
“Y/N stop.” Dean grabbed the glass from your hand, and put it away from you. “He’s a dick, and you deserve better.”  
  
“Do I Dean?” You turned to look at him, eyes becoming glossy. “Because from where I am standing, I sure as hell don’t _feel_ like it. I mean you should have seen her. If she and I were in the same room, you’d obviously pick her too.”  
  
Dean furrowed his brows in confusion. “That’s not true. You are wrong, Y/N. You are beautiful, smart, a hell of a lot tougher than me and Sammy.”  
  
You shook your head, grabbing your glass that Dean took away from you. “I don’t need your pity, ok.” Sniffling, you poured yourself another shot.  
  
“ _Pity_?” He grabbed the glass from your hand, again. “This is not pity.” he let out a deep breath, grabbing the whiskey and your glass, standing to his feet and making his way to the bar. “I shouldn’t be telling you this when you’re drunk, but, you are worth it, Y/N.” He sighed heavily, trying to figure out the right words, his back still turned you. “I’ve been keeping this to myself out of respect for your relationship, but you make me feel things I had never felt before. You make me a better man. You don’t even know how much it pained me to see you with him. Even Sammy threatened to out me, because he said I was becoming unbearable for him.” He chuckled, sitting the bottle down on the small bar, replacing the bottle he had finished just a few hours before. “I guess what I’m trying to say is,” he turned to finally look at you.  
  
But to his surprise, you were passed out. Arms folded, head down, slightly snoring, _passed out_. Dean downed your glass, before setting it next to the bottle. He then made his way over to you, lifting you in his arms, and taking you back to his room. He gently laid you on his bed, where you stirred a bit, letting out another tiny snore, and turned over.  
  
He smiled to himself, leaning down to place a kiss on your temple. He walked over to his desk chair, and made himself as comfortable as possible. He watched you for a couple of minutes, making sure you were ok, before finally drifting off himself.  
  
Maybe it was best that you passed out before Dean’s confession. He didn’t need you to be dragged into his poisonous life anyway


End file.
